Dane
She stayed overnight, though in the circumstances it was unwise—and he barely touched her. He'd just wanted her close. And she hadn't seemed to want to leave. To hell with it. He'd get a warning if Chris came back, or someone else showed up. Worst case scenario, he could send her home via the laundry when he went to the door. He knew he wouldn't sleep, though he hoped she would. And she did. Deeply. And from almost the first moment her head hit the pillow. She curled up in a ball like a child, dwarfed in one of his own sleep shirts that he never wore. He'd had to give it to her because she hadn't planned to stay. He was going to have to tell her to keep a little bag packed and store it in the stairwell, or something.
He didn't want her to have any reason to leave.
